


Show Me Love in the Dark

by missthesnow



Category: Dante's Inferno - Fandom, DmC: Devil May Cry
Genre: F/M, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 23:00:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17837663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missthesnow/pseuds/missthesnow
Summary: One shot of Dante (DmC) and an OC loosely based off of Beatrice (Dante's Inferno) that I may or may not expand.





	Show Me Love in the Dark

**_“I will show you my love in the dark, but please also promise to show me your love in the light.”_ **

\------  


            Dante exited the stairwell to see Atri sitting on a box on the roof, popping pills.  
            “That looked like enough to overdose on,” he said, giving her a concerned look. “Everything okay?”

            “Scars on my face are giving me grief,” she replied, “I’ll be fine.”

            His face turned quizzical. “Scars?”

            “Scars,” She repeated. “A body’s way of showing its history,” she gestured vaguely toward a few on his upper arm. “You show yours as trophies, and I opt to disguise mine.”  
            “Makes sense.” Dante took a few steps closer, grabbed Atri’s hand and put an arm around her, pulling her off the box.

            “The hell do think you’re doing?” she asked, a slight smile contrasting her unamused tone of voice.  
            “Well, seeing as you put your other hand on my shoulder, I would assume you’re alright with dancing?” He asked, smirking.

            She glared at him as he spun her around to non-existent music, hand indeed perched on his shoulder, pill bottle awkwardly in hard. “This is hardly the time, Dante.”  
            He stopped suddenly, still holding her. “I know.” His voice was low. “I’ve tried to think of a better way to do this, but given the present situation, there’s really not an opportunity to tell you with elegance.” The white noise of the city seemed to fade for a few moments, but maybe it was just his imagination.

            “Tell me what?”

            “Tell you that after this is all said and done, I would rather not part ways.”

            _This_. The war they were waging against heaven and hell. Against angels and demons.  
            His gaze was intense, and Atri could tell he wasn’t messing around, unlike the usual Dante.  
            She let go of his hand and removed her other hand from his shoulder, feeling a profound sadness settle over her. She gave him a smile, hoping to play it off and gave him a pat on the shoulder. “I’m flattered, really. But you’re better off looking somewhere else.”

            She turned around and started walking toward the stairwell before she could see his reaction. She really did find herself strangely attracted to Dante, his unkempt state, his penchant for getting into fights he knew he would win, even his incessant flirtation. Atri wouldn’t let herself entertain the idea for long, however. She wasn’t half the person Dante thought she was. He had asked several times about her ‘story,’ who she was before they met. She had convinced herself that even though he thought he wanted to know her history – who she _had_ been – he _didn’t_ really want to know. He’d want nothing to do with her if he _did_ know; Atri knew and _she_ wanted nothing to do with herself.

            “I know you’re Nephilim. If that’s what’s holding you back,” he said quietly.

            Atri stopped, the false smile fading from her face. She faced Dante, “What did you say?”

            “I know you’re Nephilim, Atri, like me. Spawn of the union of a demon and an angel. You’re different, you’re special, you resist the rest of the world because you know what it could be if people only cared.”

            Dante could see he had hit part of the issue, but not all of it, as Atri regarded him with subdued eyes.

            “Maybe I was Nephilim. Once.” She exhaled a heavy breath.

            “I’m broken, Dante.” Her words were disjointed, “I was held captive as a slave, for both demons and angels alike – for years. I was bound, tortured, abused…” Her voice broke.

            He stepped close to her. “None of that matters to me. I mean, it does – I care about you though, not your history. I want to create a world for you where those nightmares no longer exist. I want to protect you, or fight alongside you – whatever you need. I don’t want you to ever live in fear again.”

            Atri drew her empty hand across her face, revealing a network of scars and mutilated skin. A particularly deep gash ran from the corner of her mouth to her lower face, leading to a series of nasty burns. Dante saw a devil-brand across one of her eyes, and countless other injuries.

            “Is this what you want?” Her voice was strained, “Is this what you want to look at?”

            Tears fell unheeded from her good eye, “I’m not special like you, Dante. Don’t waste your time with me.”

            She turned back toward the stairwell. He reached out to grab her wrist, thought better of it, and instead said, “My time would have been wasted these last few months without you, Atri.”

            Atri turned back toward him again, expecting to see pity in his eyes, like she had seen in so many countless others when they saw her face. But there was none to be found, instead she was met with sincerity and resolve. He actually believed what he was saying to her. Something in Atri mended, or softened, or maybe both. She stepped close enough to Dante that she could feel the heat rising off his lips.

            Not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable, he prayed that he was reading the situation correctly and not overstepping his boundaries. He slowly moved to close the space between them and kissed her softly and briefly before pulling away. Atri had expected this, but his gentleness surprised her, and she dropped the pill bottle she had been holding.

            He brought an even gentler hand to her cheek. “This is the face I cannot imagine ever living another day without.” His eyes flicked to the pill bottle on the ground and he quickly bent down to pick it up.

            He reached out to offer it to her, “Here – uh, sorry.”

            Atri suppressed a smile; Dante had been so eloquent, but he was still Dante. Taking the bottle from his outstretched hand, she thought of what she could possibly say. She opted to say nothing at all and wove a hand into his short hair, kissing him again.

            Surprised at herself for not retching at the thought or action of kissing someone, Atri deepened the kiss, only for Dante to pull away.

            “I don’t want you to feel obligated to do anything. I just needed you to understand how I really feel.” Atri could sense the caution in his words, but she could also sense he wouldn’t ever cross a boundary.

            “I know… I – I feel safe with you. I trust you… and I believe everything you’ve said.”

            Atri had never said anything like that to him before, but he still worried about taking things too far.

            She continued, “If you’re really okay with this, I think I am too.” Dante hung on that word, ‘think;’ she wasn’t sure, so he wouldn’t make any moves.  
            “No,” she shook her head, and words came tumbling out, “No, I want this. I really do. I was afraid of what you’d think of me once you found out I was Nephilim and what had been done to me and – and what I looked like, and I was afraid that –"

            Dante placed his hands around her waist and lifted them both into the sky, kissing her in the same short, careful way he had before.

            He pulled away and Atri looked at the city squalor, far below them, seeming so irrelevant for once. She decided she preferred looking at Dante, in whom she had always found a strange sense of repose, but now in whom she found resolve. She replaced the illusion over her face, preferring her own version of herself, but took comfort in knowing Dante didn’t care what she looked like.

            “I want to show you that there is still love in the dark, because you’ve shown it to me.  
 His voice was barely above a whisper.

            She closed the space between their lips once more, this time, determined to not let him go. Dante let Atri lead, still afraid of overwhelming her, and she got the sense that she was only going to get back from him what she gave.

            She awkwardly pulled back so she could put the pill bottle in her pocket and nearly smirked at the thought of having two free hands.

            “Oh, sorry,” he commented.

            “Sorry for what?” she quirked an eyebrow.

            “I could’ve offered to hold that for you, sorry.”

            “No, it’s okay. I’d much rather you hold me right now.”

            Atri couldn’t believe it, she had dropped such a Dante-esque line and he had blushed upon hearing it. She was shocked that he was capable of blushing, and even more shocked that she had actually delivered the line – but she had meant it. She didn’t say anything to retract the statement; she wanted to be clear to Dante how she felt. _He_ had been plenty clear, after all. Right now, she only cared about his attention, because it was the most genuine thing she had felt in years.

            She placed her hands on his hips, ever so slightly sneaking her hands under the hem of his shirt, running her fingers over sinewy muscle. Dante followed suit quickly, placing one hand on the small of her back and the other near her shoulder blade as they resumed their lip contact.

            For a few moments, he let himself not worry so much and just let things naturally progress. That is, until rain began to fall and soak into their clothes, making it difficult to stay in the air. They rushed toward the ground and ran, laughing, into the stairwell, but didn’t descend, staying on the upper landing. They shrugged off their drenched jackets and faced each other.

            Dante’s whole body was on fire; maybe it was due to the cold contrast of the rain. He had been so careful to match Atri’s pace, but it was driving him crazy. He hoisted her onto his hips and pressed her against the wall of the landing, but hesitated. This was not about him, it was about _them_ and about Atri. Atri had heard enough stories from Vergil to be sure she knew where Dante’s mind was going. A slant of a smile found its way across her face and she gave him a nod. His lips crashed into hers and she felt the fire behind his movements she had been expecting all along. Any cold they may have felt from the rain had long since given way to the heat of their embrace. She wrapped her legs around his waist and she felt him inhale sharply. He responded by placing his hands just under her soaked shirt and feeling whatever skin he found there.

            Like her face, it too was heavily scarred. He broke their kiss for the fourth time that evening and looked at her with an apology in his eyes.

            Atri shook her head, not wanting to stop. She didn’t want pity, she didn’t want apologies, she wanted acceptance. She released her legs and slid down the wall until her feet hit the concrete ground. She beckoned him closer and took his hands in hers, placing them at the lowest button on her shirt. She undid her topmost button as he undid the bottom, they worked in tandem, Dante careful to not open her shirt, until they reached the middle button together. Atri let him unfasten it and then waited for him to open and remove the rest of her shirt. He had a gentle touch so unlike his personality and so far removed from the wanting, taking hands of demons and angels past.

            Dante slid the shirt over her shoulders and she pulled it the rest of the way off her arms. She bit her lip and watched for how he would react to the marred surface of her stomach, chest and arms. He gave Atri’s uncovered figure a once-over and began running his hands softly around her waist and up her back, kissing from her collarbone upward, until he reached the place where her neck met her jawline. She bit her lip again, although this time not because she was nervous. Not to be outdone, she took his shirt by the hem and pulled it over his head, which was admittedly more difficult than she’d expected given how wet the shirt was. She traced her fingers across the long scars adorning his torso and met his lips forcefully with hers. She flicked her tongue across the roof of his mouth and it set him off. Dante, no longer shy with his hands, felt every possible inch of Atri’s exposed body, her back, her shoulders, her neck, her stomach, and reached for her bra clasp as he left lingering kisses across the hollow of her throat.

            He exhaled in frustration at his current inability to undo the clasp. He’d done it plenty of times before, but he was distracted by Atri’s quick movements in removing his belt and unzipping his pants. She was eager and enticing – something usually lacking in his previous partners. He pulled back to kick off his shoes and step out of his pants as Atri mercifully undid her own clasp.

            She winked at him, “Huh, I thought for sure you’d know how to undo a bra, Dante. What with all the stories Vergil –" Damn his brother. He’d have to kick him later. He shut her up by placing a kiss at that same place where her neck met her jawline and introduced a small bite. She gasped and wove her fingers through his hair to keep him there. He slipped a finger through one of her bra straps and brought it down off her shoulders, throwing it down the stairwell. Atri eyed Dante, just as she did each time he saw more of her than before, never sure how he’d react.

            He whispered against her mouth, “You’re beautiful.” He kept one hand on the small of her back and held one of her breasts carefully in the other. He could hardly focus as he felt her in his hand and in his mouth. He may have bragged to Vergil about his escapades before, but this was different – Atri made him feel like he was all talk. He could keep up. She was inviting and everything he wanted and he was going to accept everything she gave him.

            Dante picked her up and laid her on their still damp jackets, figuring it was better than cold concrete. She kicked off her shoes, anticipating his next move. With a little more finesse than the bra clasp, he removed her belt and brought her jeans down and off her ankles. She was so small, and in this moment, she felt small too. Dante could see nearly all of her and he was still looking. The more he saw, skin and scars, the more he was certain he loved her. He propped himself up above her and kissed away a tear she hadn’t known was there.

            “Atri, we can stop. I want you to feel comfortable.” He began to panic, thinking he had lost control of himself, because to an extent, he had.

            She pulled his face down to meet hers, “Dante, I want this. I want you.” She let her hands wander and he felt at ease once more. They found a rhythm somewhere between gentle caressing and fiery exploring that seemed to fill the desire they had both been feeling. Dante was still worried though, this time about keeping himself propped above Atri, which was beginning to feel uncomfortable given that he was bracing himself against a concrete floor. She knocked his hand out from under him and he landed, body pressed against her. She hardly gave him time to apologize before wrapping a leg against his hip keeping his weight against her. The feeling of her breasts against his chest sent a jolt through his body and he made a noise low in his throat.

            Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Atri and Dante, a few floors below, Vergil had begun his ascent up the stairs in search of them. His curiosity was sparked at their extended absence, but was especially piqued upon finding a very wet black bra in the mid-level stair well.

            Atri was acutely aware of a growing pressure where their hips were locked together, but she wasn’t ready for anything yet that might follow it. She focused instead on Dante’s warm mouth and the tantalizing path it was taking to the back of her neck. Once more, he introduced a small bite, and this time he felt one of her hands claw at his back, pulling another involuntary moan from him.

            It was at that moment that Vergil came up the stairs and arrived at the landing they had been busy on. Atri was first to notice and pulled the edge of Dante’s jacket over herself. Dante was wrenched out of his fantasy as he no longer felt all of Atri’s beautiful skin against his own. He followed her eyes over to where Vergil was standing. If he’d had any blood to spare, it might have drained from his face. Vergil walked toward the entwined couple, Atri’s bra slung on a single finger he held out to both of them.

            “Really, Dante. A concrete stairwell. How romantic.”

**Author's Note:**

> Atri is taken from Beatrice (beATRIce)


End file.
